Page 33 of Billionaire's Promise
"You’ll know when you feel it."
"I hate riddles," I pout.
"And I love you."
My eyelids snap open. I stare into the darkness. What was that? What a weird dream. Why had I dreamed that? I turn over on my side, throw my leg over my pillow. My core clenches. The remnants of the dream cling to my skin; the scent of him still envelops me. The strength of him, as if imprinted into my muscle memory. The way he’d covered my body with his, how that thick length of his had pushed into my core. I slide my fingers down to cup my pussy through my panties. Shit! The fabric is soaked. I dig the heel of my hand into the fabric and massage my clit. Pinpricks of pleasure shoot out from the contact. My breasts seem to swell, and a groan wells from my lips. What am I doing? What is wrong with me? I thrust my hips against my hand, wanting so much to shove my fingers inside my own pussy. But it wouldn’t be enough. I need something bigger, thicker…wider…ugh! No choice. I reach for the drawer on my bedstand, when a groan reaches me.
I freeze. Wait, arm outstretched. Am I dreaming? No, I am awake… What was that? I focus on the darkness. Wait… Only silence reaches me. I lower my hand and my fingertips brush the handle of the drawer when another groan filters through from the direction of the doorway. No, I definitely hadn’t imagined it. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and straighten. Another groan, this one more strident, more urgent. I rush to the door, open it and step out into the living room.
Moonlight filters in through the crack between the drapes. I can make out the figure on the couch as he moves, thrashes around. I head toward Baron, stand over him as his features contort. Sweat gleams on his forehead, across his shoulders—his bare shoulders. Shit, of course he’d taken off his shirt before falling asleep. The cover gleams against the burnished brown of his torso. The fabric dips around his waist as he flings his arm over his forehead and groans. Moisture glistens on his cheek. Wait. Is he crying? Are those tears? Can’t be. But why not? Can’t grown men cry in their sleep?
His shoulders bunch and the tendons of his throat move as he swallows. Then his fingers bunch on the sheet, his knuckles white as he grips the fabric. Another low groan rumbles from him and my heart stutters. I lean forward and touch his shoulder. His eyes fly open. The next second, the world tilts. I am on my back on the floor and Baron’s fingers are around my neck.
11
Baron
"I am going to kill you," I growl. "I am going to tear you from limb to limb for what you did to me. Get your hands off of me, you filthy bastard." I squeeze down with my fingers, intent only on cutting off his air supply. If I could only snuff out his life, everything would be so much better. If I could only—
"Baron," her voice chokes. "Please…please…”
All thought empties from my head. I glance down at her delicate features, the auburn hair about her shoulders, her gaze wide, the green pupils dilated with—fear. Her pink rosebud-mouth open, as she chokes, and tries to draw breath.
"No." I release her and she coughs, draws in a breath, then another. She brings her fingers to her neck, presses her palms to the skin there. Her chest heaves as she coughs again.
"Fuck," I growl. "Fucking fuck." I scramble away from her, hit the side of the settee. "Fuck, I am so sorry, Ava. Fuck, fuck, fuck." I bury my fingers in my hair and tug. "I am so fucking sorry. What the hell is wrong with me?" I lower my hands and stare at my palms. "I almost killed you. You are not safe around me. This is why I should have slept in the car. I shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near you. What the hell had I been thinking, allowing myself near you—?"
"Baron!" Her voice reaches me.
I ignore it. "I should have shot myself a long time ago. I am not fit to survive. I shouldn’t have accepted Edward’s call, shouldn’t have come here in the first place."
"Baron, stop." She sits up, and crawls over to me. "It wasn’t your fault. You were sleeping. You didn’t know."
"That’s not an excuse." I stare at my palms, the lines that run across the width. "I could have killed you, Ava."
"You wouldn’t have."
"You don’t know that."
"Of course, I do. Protecting is in your DNA; it’s woven into every cell of your body. Someone like you, who would give your life for another, would never kill."
"That’s where you are wrong." I glance up at her. "I have killed more people than you can imagine."
"That was war, you didn’t have a choice."
"You always have a choice." I fold my fingers together. "I just chose to ignore it."
"You did what was right," she insists. "You did what you were told."
"You know what the worst part of it is?"
She shakes her head.
"I enjoyed it. I enjoyed killing."
She pales.
"I was so good at it, they pulled me off the frontlines."
